


[edited] bad authorial decision.docx

by sprinklyzucchini



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, F/F, Genderbending, Genderfluid Character, Genderswap, Language of Flowers, aka inspired by that 'how to say fuck u in flower' prompt, as is suggested with their pronouns... god that was satisfying to write, background Sokka/Jet, genderfluid!sokka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 13:29:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10022657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprinklyzucchini/pseuds/sprinklyzucchini
Summary: sokka's trying to break up with jet, runs into a crush instead,





	

**Author's Note:**

> aka the fic i wrote while drunk af to dump all my relationship probs on sokka and college assignment probs on zuko and didnt sober edit aka fUCCCCCCCKKKKKK

At a florist’s was not where you wanted to be when running on precisely twenty minutes of sleep, a more or less horrifying blend of espresso-energy drink-caffeine pills, and sheer willpower. Not when the cloying scent of the flowers in your environs pretty much ensured a persistent (but tolerable) headache.

Zuko was managing pretty fine, considering this was the third week in a row she’d pulled this off. Uni life got you like that.

She’d come into Jasmine Dragon, Iroh’s teamaker-plus-florist establishment, waved off her uncle’s insistence that she take leave for a week (“my dear niece, you look half-dead please just go take care of yourself!” was the short summary of his fifteen-minutes of fussing) – was currently juggling her essay and bouquet orders.  She’d messed up only two so far, and it wasn’t even noon.

Zuko frowned at her research-compilation and tried very hard not to think about the two-hour lecture she’d have to attend in the afternoon. Oh well, at least the flow of customers had ceased for a –

 _Slam_.

Zuko looked up from the glare of her laptop, and silently cursed her luck. _Seriously,_ this essay wasn’t going to write itself!

“Uhm, sorry about that… Is, is anyone here?”

The voice was very soft in comparison to its owner’s entrance. Zuko sighed, set her laptop on her stool and walked out from behind the crockery shelf. She looked around for Ty Lee, before remembering that she’d _actually_ taken a leave to catch up with her work (and sleep,) like a normal human being. Oh well.

The first thing she noticed about the woman was how her hands were in a constant state of motion. Picking at the hem of her top, scratching her cheek, clenching on her arm. It was a bit disorienting, and Zuko deduced that she was in for a long one this time.

Said woman looked up, needlessly brushing away hair from her face – then it was an onslaught of icy blues and mascara smudged over cheekbones on an absurdly long face - and Zuko momentarily stopped breathing. Then she resumed breathing, and was confused and slightly disgusted with herself, because  _what the fuck_.

Her headache increased.

“How do you passive-aggressively say ‘fuck you’ in flower.” Ah, straight to the point then. Wait, _what_?

“Uh.” _Sure, let me just whip out my PhD in floral language to assist you, Cheekbones._ Zuko promptly tamped down the embarrassment of assigning a nickname to this ~~infuriatingly striking~~ stranger. With a strange request.

“I- Sorry! I mean hi, hello, could you help me make a bouquet, which should include any and all flowers symbolizing ‘kindly go fuck yourself you gross piece of shit’ – it’s kinda urgent I need to send this to my ex as of an hour ago _a-s-a-p_.” Her enunciation of the ‘asap’ hinted an accent Zuko couldn’t quite recognize, but more importantly, it was loud and her ears protested.

Zuko knew she probably looked like an idiot, or some impolite fuck, but didn’t care, because –

“What.”

“Oops. TMI? I don’t know, don’t you guys get break-up bouquets every once in a while?” Cheekbones looked over at the Tea side of the shop, which consisted of a few customers and her uncle who was disappearing to the back to prepare a new order. He seemed blissfully oblivious. Zuko could really use his expertise on these so-called break up bouquets right about now.

Cheekbones huffed, looking irritatingly attractive while doing so, and shifted on her bare feet. Zuko was initially taken aback by their bareness, and that she was actually clutching her (broken) heels in one hand, before the huff registered. Uh oh.

“Look, I’m sorry, but I’m kinda new here and haven’t ever gotten orders like this, so if you could be more specific, that’d be great?” She hoped her annoyance didn’t show too much. She wondered if her scar, combined with the raspy squeak that was her voice – intimidated the other woman. That happened sometimes.

Cheekbones didn’t give any such sign. If anything, she looked a bit annoyed as well (but considering the reason for her request, it probably wasn’t unusual) – and then she looked Zuko up and down, dizzyingly fast, and her features inexplicably softened.

“Of course, dude. Okay. Can I come back in some time after I have a list of the flowers I want?”

Zuko barely managed to reply with a “Yeah, sure.” Could some people maybe chill with their attractiveness? Cheekbones looked satisfied anyway, because she grinned, and practically whirled out of the door – her “Awesome, I’ll be right back!” echoing after her.

Zuko shook her head to re-orient herself. Aesthetically-pleasing customer aside, that request was so bizarre; she couldn’t concentrate on her essay for about half an hour. She just despondently looked at the time – 9:40 AM – and back at her notes. Jeong Jeong would absolutely have her ass for this. She briefly wondered how Aang, her flat (and class)mate, was doing considering his notorious tendency for taking too many breaks. It was a good thing she was usually there to goad him into completing his assignments, and a good thing he sometimes dragged her away from hers. But not now.

She called him to check up anyway. Also, some solidarity in mutual suffering would help.

He picked up on the first ring.  
“ _Fuck. Zuko you need to help me how am I supposed to finish this monster in under three hoursI’vebarelyevenlookedatpage45andthatcontainsmostoftheinfoandKatarasawayorsomethingimsooooofucked –”_

She could relate. The fact that this was actually driving Aang to swear was proof.

After instructing him to breathe, make himself a drink, and some more goading (and collectively bitching about the word-length) – Zuko dove back into her work. She had been making progress for about an hour, occasionally snacking on Uncle’s oatmeal cookies, when Cheekbones sauntered in, wearing actual shoes, with her face cleared of makeup and hair tied back.

This time Zuko had moved the stool closer to the door, so she was immediately alerted to her presence. Cheekbones swiped at her phone screen before flashing Zuko a grin.

"Geraniums for stupidity, foxglove for insincerity, meadowsweet – uselessness _yeah that’s a good one_ , yellow carnations for you have disappointed me – _another great find,_ did you _know_ all this? Holy shit dude – and orange lilies, of course, for hatred. Even though I don’t really. Y’know, hate him. But this should be fine, yeah? I mean, sorry, if you’re busy I could –”

“It’s okay, I was busy before too. And yeah, we have all of those in stock, maybe except the foxglove. I’ll go and check.” She set her laptop down again.

“Sure thing.” Cheekbones tilted her head, the sunlight reflecting off the cuff on her ear, and smiled at Zuko.

Zuko scurried to the back, angry at herself for her rapidly-coloring cheek.

______________

Sokka was honestly, a little blindsided. They’d started their morning with a terrible ‘high’-over, a gratuitous view of Jet’s (fit) backside, and subsequently a tsunami of regret and guilt and _dammit, not again._ Then Jet had woken up with a similar expression and he’d made them breakfast, and like the previous million times, they _talked about it_ … which led to Round (?) against the fridge. Then Jet had gone and done the _thing_ again – that infuriating thing which drove out Sokka’s ire and sarcasm. Then they fought, and sat in awkward silence, and Jet offered to make them a second breakfast (he seemed to be such an asshole, _was,_ but he knew them so well it sometimes made their heart squeeze. Very platonically.) Sokka still shook their head and opted to forego Jet’s usual second round of cheese-egg scrambles and garlic bread, and walked the fuck out of there.

They had a long conversation with themself, their usual litany of _you need to end this – how many times will you hang in with your physical attraction and wildly contrasting personalities and humongous egos? – god maybe this time it will work – it has to. It just does –_ and ended their reflections right outside this flower(+ tea? Nice) shop. Jasmine Dragon – fancy! – was scrawled out on the board in curly lettering, and they immediately knew what to do.

Unfortunately, their question had been too awkwardly-phrased, and they kind of understood the employee’s stupefied face. When they tried to be more coherent about their order, she gave them a look flatter than their chest. Sokka tried to maybe jolt her into co-operating by showing their impatience, and Scar (oh shit what? did they just nickname her? must be still baked,) spoke with a voice that clearly wasn’t used in a long time, the annoyed flash in her eyes very evident. And as urgent as this matter was, Sokka felt a little for her, because gods knew they could relate. And she acquiesced, because this woman should just seem intimidating/badass what with half her face scarred, shaggy hair springing out of a hairband, framing a square and very tense jaw, and narrowed hazel eyes – but it was more like, _exhausted_ badass – so.

They went back to the flat they shared with Katara, and ignored her baleful and concerned gaze as they fled to the bathroom. They sat on the toilet for half an hour researching about flower language, and amassed quite a collection. That should be okay with Scar, no? Yeah. Then they scrubbed their skin clean, and sulked about wanting Jet and it never being enough. Then about the flowers they’d send him, and the flaming bag of shit he’d probably retaliate with, which kind of lightened the mood.

“Oh. Here I was thinking I’d have to drag you out of bed,” commented Katara as they stepped out in actual jogging attire. Sokka just stuck their tongue out at her, a decidedly immature response, but oh well.

When they rattled off their order at Scar and smiled at her, they hoped they hadn’t imagined the resultant blush on (half) her face. _Gods._

She set her work down (don’t feel guilty, Sokka,) and brisk-walked to the back of the store, and returned to confirm the availability of foxglove.

‘Chill,’ Sokka flashed her one of their flashier smiles, and took some satisfaction in noticing her fumble in her speech. Distantly, their mind registered that crushing on someone while you were in an on-and-off, toxic mess of a relationship with your boyfriend was… actually not an uncommon, or a bad thing to do. They talked to Scar (whose nametag read Zuko, wait was she Aang’s-roommate-Zuko?) about the price, and the design of the bouquet (“oh just do whatever, I was never much for arranging this stuff.” – “…alright, will do.”)

Ugh, did she have to be so… so… Sokka caught her eyeing the choker on their neck, and the consequent blush. Okay, they were so gone.

“So uh, _Zuko_. Are you the Zuko? Like, Aang’s-hermit-roommate-Zuko?” Shit, shouldn’t have said the hermit part.

Surprisingly, this only prompted a surprised chuckle out of her, an expression so transformative on her face it kind of knocked Sokka’s breath out ( _not_ literally.)  
“Uh…! Yeah, yes, that’s me. Zuko Nakayama. And that’s Iroh, my uncle, this is his shop.” She paused, fumbling with the foil, and Sokka realized they’d never introduced themselves either and wow _awkward –_

“Sorry! Sokka. Sokka Amaruq, you… probably know about me? I think you share a class with my sister?”

Scar – sorry _Zuko_ , blinked, “Actually, yeah. Never seen you around campus though. Knew Katara had an older sister but –” she cut off abruptly. Sokka could guess, though. _Wasn’t expecting the sister to be like… this._

Which uh, yeah. Sokka had kind of had to take a medical leave because they broke their leg, and then that thing with Suki happened, and then they just fucked off and stopped caring about attendance so they were letting this sem go by before they could repeat it. The hours were pretty flexible, considering it was art college (and definitely not the one Katara and Aang attended) and – you know what, they just don’t like thinking about it.

It was weird that Zuko’d never heard of them though.

So they sum it up with a “Yeh… Different college, different hours.” Not gonna focus on Zuko’s hands curling the ribbon around a stick, not gonna – they were just easier to focus on than her face, okay?!

“Oh. Okay.” Sokka swore she heard some disappointment in her tone, and nervously twisted the hem of their shorts.

“I mean, I’m also skipping this sem because my attendance is too far gone, and… yeah, I have free time until summer, I guess?” _What the fuck were they saying –_

No no, scratch that. Flirting was fine, wasn’t it?

They needed to move on from Jet anyway. Somehow, correlating these two events was highly uncomfortable, and made Sokka a little queasy.

 _I don’t want her to be a rebound_.

“Um. Here you go. Good luck with your break up. Or fight. Whatever,” Zuko was holding out the flowers, neatly tucked into a jute bracket with ribbons curling around the stems. It looked really pretty, for something with such ornery meaning. Sokka tried not to let their hands linger on hers while taking the bouquet, but – well, they _tried_.

“Oh yeah, definitely gonna be a break up. This is such a perfect hate bouq- hey, bouq _hate_!” Sokka silently cursed themself for their inability to not make a stupid pun, _especially_ in front of someone they knew only by association and would like to know more about in a … definitely-not-a-rebound way? Dammit.

Zuko’s face crumpled, much to their horror, until they realized her shoulders were shaking, and she was actually trying not to laugh. Sokka mentally kissed their functioning brain goodbye, a tragic result of some florist employee being too cute for her own good.

“You think I’m too cute for my own good?” Zuko’s good eye widened, and – no imagination this time – she flushed such an impressive shade of red it almost matched the color of her shirt.

Sokka really thought they’d outgrown this saying-stupid-stuff-out-loud habit, but since today was a day of regrets and embarrassment, they took it in stride.

“Um. I. Yeah.”

Another pause. Just filled with the scent of the Bouqhate, and the mortifying sight of Zuko’s red face and scrunched up eyebrow and the distant sounds coming from the busier ongoings in the tea shop.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to make you uncomfy or anything…”  Maybe they should just chill. This was not new, this… skateboarding through a slew of relationships and getting over and crushing on people way too fast and intensely and trying and failing to keep it because of commitment issues and whatnot… thing.

“No no it’s okay, I –!”  Zuko paused to take a breath, “it’s fine. Just. Y’know, not used to getting hit on by a client. New experience, I’m told it builds character or something.” She let out a breath that _could’ve_ been a chuckle but it just registered in Sokka’s brain as _cutecutecuteohholyfuckinghell –_ and looked over Sokka’s shoulder. Her face went through a myriad of expressions, the most prominent one being exasperation. Sokka turned around to see the source. A portly old man – probably Iroh – with a braid slung over one shoulder, carrying a tray precariously piled with saucers and cups, waved at them. Sokka waved back, plastering on their trademark grin. _I hope you don’t mind I’m flirting with your niece here, dude._

Apparently he didn’t mind. He grinned back, and disappeared inside the back of the shop. Zuko sighed, and Sokka couldn’t help but ask, “Invested in your apparent love life, is he?”

“He’s invested in everything,” came the mumbled reply, with a tone more fond than annoyed. Sokka turned back to look at her. More of Zuko’s hair had sprung free from her hairband, and her good eye was narrowed. The ruddy hue of her face remained.  
“Apparent love life, is it?” she asked, tapping her fingers on the tiny desk. Sokka still detected a note of hesitation though. Obvious, given the extremely weird situation.

They struggled to find an answer that was along the lines of _dude I really like you, or at least am attracted to you, and I know it’s awkward that you just put together a hate bouquet for my ex, but it’s not fair that we only know of each other when we have mutual friends so would you maybe just wanna hang out sometime just to do that? As friends? We can work up to it?_

They would have blurted this out too, if their awkward silence hadn’t been interrupted by a loud rendition of Rihanna’s Man Down. It seemed to be coming from Zuko’s phone, and Sokka promptly raised an eyebrow. Zuko groaned, shot them an apologetic look, and swiped her screen on Aang’s name.

“Hey, yeah. Yeah yeah. No, there’s a client. No, I _have_ finished – oh, she says hi,” Zuko smiled at Sokka’s enthusiastic waving, “yeah, no, you _know_ her! Katara’s sister, Sokka?” There was a loud noise from the other end of the line, and Sokka knew Aang was probably flipping – “he says hi, and asks if Katara’s awake yet,” Sokka nodded yes, “yeah, she is but her phone’s probably switched off so just, call you back in ten okay? Okay, try not to die, talk to you later.” She jabbed her thumb on the end call button.

Fine as they were with Aang calling, this had completely cut off Sokka’s flow. Aw shit.

“I… should probably, yeah – here you go…” Sokka handed her the cash, “it was nice meeting you. We should –” Zuko looked up, eyes more alert than Sokka’d seen all morning, “do this again sometime? Maybe when you’re _not_ putting together a bouquet for my ex?” In the back of their mind, they felt bad for Jet, because springing this actual break up on him was kind of. Well, inevitable, but still.

Before they could spiral down a self-imposed guilt trip, Zuko took their hand and put her phone in their palm. “Exchanging numbers a good start, then?” She asked, her face contorting into some constipated expression that Sokka figured was her trying too hard not to smile. Sokka beamed.

“Of course.” They tapped down their number. They tried to relax their facial muscles, but the grin wouldn’t go.

And if they saved the contact with only their first name and the ‘;3’ emoji, then. Zuko would just have to live with that, oops.

Sokka left the shop with arms full of insincere hate, wallet slightly emptier, and mind slightly clearer. They would let Jet get back at them with fiery dog shit. Then they would sort this out together, and then they would probably ask Zuko out for lunch (platonically!) and.

Just maybe, it’d be fine.

**Author's Note:**

> wow soRry,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, im still drunk af so obviously im posting this without peer supervision like a person with bad decisions.png should do......


End file.
